


Playing Rough

by thealexiad



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: BDSM, Fluff, M/M, Smut, because clearly there isn't enough coliver fanfiction in this world, coliver - Freeform, maybe? - Freeform, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealexiad/pseuds/thealexiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As usual, it starts out with Oliver reading through the latest piece of queer literature which he’s bought for his ever-growing library. Lying next to him, Connor closes his copy of The Velvet Rage – or to be more precise, Oliver’s copy - and places it on his nightstand, murmuring something sounding like “Good book,” and turning to stare with his beautiful brown eyes at Oliver’s adorable yet intensely focused face. Oliver can see him in his periphery but ignores him and tries to keep reading his book - internally he’s already resigned himself to what’s coming next, and of course he’s game for it, but he has to take this stand on principle, at least. Connor continues to bore holes in Oliver’s face, and starts making little whiny moans. Oliver heaves a weary sigh, and after a few more whines he exasperatedly spits out “Yes, Connor?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Rough

As usual, it starts out with Oliver reading through the latest piece of queer literature which he’s bought for his ever-growing library. Lying next to him, Connor closes his copy of _The Velvet Rage_ – or to be more precise, Oliver’s copy - and places it on his nightstand, murmuring something sounding like “Good book,” and turning to stare with his beautiful brown eyes at Oliver’s adorable yet intensely focused face. Oliver can see him in his periphery but ignores him and tries to keep reading his book - internally he’s already resigned himself to what’s coming next, and of course he’s game for it, but he has to take this stand on principle, at least. Connor continues to bore holes in Oliver’s face, and starts making little whiny moans. Oliver heaves a weary sigh, and after a few more whines he exasperatedly spits out “Yes, Connor?”

Connor’s mouth widens into his trademark grin. “Ol-i-ver. Ollll-i-ver. Ollllll-iiiii-verrrr.”

"Connor."

Connor’s pupils dilate and before Oliver can even put his book down he has a mouthful of Connor’s tongue. Connor’s tongue. Using his remaining faculties, Oliver closes the book and places it on his nightstand as carefully as he can. He then grabs Connor’s face, as Connor has grabbed his, and they make out for another minute or so. It’s 9 pm, so they’re already down to their underwear, but Connor still has his tank top on, which he breaks away to remove. The top is off in an instant and Connor is back on Oliver. Connor starts placing kisses down Oliver’s chest, stopping right above the hem of his gray briefs.

Oliver knows that there’s five possible scenarios that could come next. He knows which of those five it is when Connor limbers up on his arms, supporting his own hands on Oliver’s, and smirks before saying “you ready?”

Oliver’s ready.

The first time Oliver had been a bit unsure and unsettled by what Connor was asking him to do. Connor was holding himself up above him that time too, in their fifth or sixth night together, and asked, or rather, ordered him to “flip me over.” Oliver squinted “Umm, what?” “Flip. Me. Over” Connor had insisted. “Umm, alright, I guess I’ll try.” When Oliver gently rolled them both over so he was on top, Connor shot him a glare “Really? That’s it?” For a while then they just rolled over and over, Connor coaching him with that aloof authority that comes naturally to his voice, until Oliver finally, exasperated, picked Connor up and threw him down on the bed with more force than he had ever remembered handling another person. Connor grinned “That’s it!”

Each time since then Oliver had let a few more of his reservations go, and by now he had found the exact amount of force Connor wanted, which also happened to be just under the threshold where someone might actually be injured.

So now, Oliver is ready.

He reaches up, squeezes Connor’s wrists, and throws him over to the side before quickly climbing on top of the law student. Even now, however, Connor still teases, “That all you got?” Oliver would be lying if he said he disliked Connor’s provocations. Connor gets his own grip on Oliver’s arms and tries to flip back, but Oliver has enough of an advantage in size and strength to make this attempt futile. Oliver takes advantage of this opening to plant his own kisses on Connor’s chest, and Connor can only wriggle and writhe and moan.

“Oliver!"

Hearing that name fly breathlessly from Connor’s thin lips still has the same effect on him as it did the first time they were together. But this time, Oliver knows he’s in control, he’s not filled with doubts and thoughts that this might be in any way transactional - no, this was just about him and Connor. Not about school, or work, or a case, but about them.

Their bodies perfectly synced by now, Oliver instinctively lets go to give the both of them an opportunity to take off their briefs. Connor’s had his fill of horseplay for now, and is hungry for something else. Oliver’s already resting on his elbows, and a moment later he feels the familiar sensation of Connor’s lips making their way down his spine. He can already feel his whole body tingling, and when Connor’s tongue makes its entrance, Oliver gasps out as he always has, but unlike before, he’s now confident enough to voice his feelings. “Fuck, Connor.”

The man with the golden tongue cruelly takes a momentary pause in his labors to lift his head and say, snarky as ever, “That’s the plan.”

Oliver hasn’t even finished finding the words to express his frustration before Connor was back at work, giving Oliver a feeling that hasn’t diminished one iota since the first time they were together. What certainly has diminished is the crushing anxiety which Oliver had felt the first time – even the words “I want this too” weren’t enough to dispel the notion that he was just being used. The events of the following weeks didn’t do much to help, for it seemed like for every time Connor showed genuine feelings for Oliver, there was a time that Connor totally disregarded Oliver’s feelings. Working up the willpower to kick Connor out had been an arduous task, and even when they made up, Oliver was determined not to go through that again. He made demands of Connor – exclusivity, regular contact, honesty – and Connor seemed more than willing to make these concessions for him – for Oliver. The idea that someone had changed his life for Oliver still hasn’t fully set in, but just the thought itself brings him an entirely new and deeper level of pleasure every time he’s around Connor. Sex is always better without a nagging sense of doubt.

Connor’s tongue is still working its magic, and his hand is reaching around to work Oliver to completion. They’ve almost set into a routine however, and Oliver knows what’s coming next. Right on cue Connor grabs the lube casually sitting on his nightstand and rubs himself up, and his dick is in Oliver’s ass even before the full sensation of the rimming has settled. For another minute Connor thrusts with a deliberate tempo, not quickly and feverishly as he had in the past, but with tenderness and an admiration that Oliver’s sure he can feel. With Connor already being halfway from jacking himself off during the rimming, and Oliver needless to say having been on the precipice for what seemed like hours now, it isn’t long before Oliver bursts, quickly followed by Connor.

While intoxicated by the truth serum of afterglow, Oliver hears the words “Are you sure you’re happy?” slip out of his mouth. He doesn’t know where that came from, but the cat’s already out of the bag as Connor, lying next to him now, turns and looks at him with a sincerity in his eyes that he reserves for Oliver and only Oliver.

“Yeah, I think I am. Should I not be?”

“It’s just that…the Connor I met had everything I wanted – the freedom, the confidence, and the means to get whatever guy he wanted to do whatever he wanted, sexually or otherwise. Not that I was fixated on having a life like that, but I’d be lying if I said I never wished I could pick up guys as easily as ordering a drink. But you gave all that up – for me. Not to say I’m not confident in myself – you know damn well that I am – but how is it that I’m the first guy that’s made you willing to give all that up? How is it that-”

“You’re fucking worth it Oliver. You know that you’re more than sex to me – a shit ton more now – but I was always more than sex to you. Even the first time you looked at me it was differently than guys usually do. You wanted to know more of me than my dick; you wanted to know more about me than how good I was with my tongue. Hell, you ended up prying my real identity out of me the first night we were together. Most guys would’ve probably just given me the info, no questions asked. I dunno, I’d just never thought before about what I meant to other people – and I can see why now, because I was just a glorified dildo with a nice face-” Oliver laughs, earning him a friendly sneer from Connor “-anyways, I was just an object, a vehicle for their desire. I was more than that to you from the start-” Connor rolls over and plants a kiss on Oliver’s shoulder, stretching his arm across Oliver’s strong, broad chest “-and I’d never known how good that feels, to mean something to someone. I just-” Connor sighs “-I just wish I could’ve realized that earlier. That the fear I had was nothing but an illusion, a barrier I’d created for myself.”

Oliver lets a short, amused huff out of his nose. “That would’ve been nice, wouldn’t it.” He reaches and strokes Connor’s soft, messy mop of hair. “But I think it was for the best that you took your time; it was something you needed to sort out for yourself.”

Connor looks down, running his finger up and down Oliver’s bicep. “That’s – thanks. I’m really - I wish I hadn’t hurt you. I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

Oliver smiles before brushing aside Connor’s long bangs and planting a kiss on his forehead. “I won’t argue with that. I can’t say that breakfast tomorrow morning wouldn’t help. Your omelets are getting better.”

Connor scoffs. “You’re saying they weren’t perfect to begin with? Looks like someone’ll have to settle for cereal.”

“As if you could resist making breakfast for me; you didn’t buy an apron just to have me put some corn flakes and strawberries in a bowl with some milk.”

“You think I look good in it?”

“Alright, I know the conversation’s over once you start asking rhetorical questions about your looks. Goodnight, Connor!” Oliver rolls over, turning away from his boyfriend.

As Oliver has come to expect, Connor shifts over and latches himself onto his back, resting his nose on his shoulder blade. This time something is different, however. “Goodnight, _sweetie_!” As much as the tone is a mocking one, Oliver knows that there’s genuine affection behind it, and even better he knows that it’s an affection that Connor wants him to hear and knows that he’ll hear. He backs slightly into Connor, and feeling Connor smile against his back tells him that was exactly the response Connor desired. Oliver drifts off to sleep, knowing that he has vanquished loneliness in far more than just his bed.

Connor Walsh being the reason Oliver is resting easy – who ever could have guessed?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to countess7 for her encouragement and oneshortdamnfuse for her help with polishing this up!


End file.
